


The Wind Between

by genki_blonde



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, Gen, Pre series, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-06 23:15:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genki_blonde/pseuds/genki_blonde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sherlock once again tried to convince himself that this really was the last time, this time he would get clean and stay that way, he would not do this anymore. For a millisecond he let himself think it might be easier with a friend by his side."</p>
<p>X-posted to ff.net under another pen name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wind Between

**Author's Note:**

> I shouldn't drive with the radio on. Inspiration might attack, you see.

This time Mycroft hadn't even pretended to listen to his brother's reasons. He had merely confined Sherlock to a penthouse for the rest of the evening under a false name and was himself sitting calmly on the armchair waiting for the cocaine to leave the younger man's blood circulation.

And Sherlock was just walking restlessly about the apartment. The elder Holmes brother could see the tremors occasionally shaking the lanky body of his baby brother and he frowned in disapproval. Seeing that, Sherlock smiled back in a decidedly evil manner.

So maybe the dosage had been a bit on the excessive side, but he had been bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. So bored. Sherlock had just wanted to feel good again. Euphoric. To clear his thoughts. To be alert.

Now his too hot body and ever growing anxiety made it hard to breathe. Or maybe it was the chest pain that came as a side effect from the drug. There was an annoying itch just under his skin, yet Sherlock felt energetic. Energetic and alive. He felt like laughing.

Noticing the disgusted look on Mycroft's face, Sherlock did laugh. Just to spite his brother.

Sighing Mycroft rose from his seat and made his way to the balcony door. "Sherlock, if you promise not to do anything silly that would terribly disappoint Mummy, I will let you go out on the balcony for a while."

Sherlock just snorted at Mycroft's idiotic idea of him jumping off the railing.

He walked out into the moonlight.

The cooler night air felt pleasant on his over-heated skin. He sat on the wooden deck chair pillowing his head on his left arm and raising the other to his eye level. As the chilly wind steadily cooled his body temperature, Sherlock studied his right hand with keen interest.

Feeling the high start to pass and the following depression setting in, Sherlock huddled into a little ball on the chair and tucked his hands under his armpits in order to prevent all the nice warmth from abandoning him. His long and uncoordinated limbs somewhat ruined the childish look of the man fighting off the effects of the cocaine.

And as the night wind tousled his brown locks, Sherlock once again tried to convince himself that this really was the last time, this time he would get clean and stay that way, he would not do this anymore, he will find another way to keep himself from getting bored. For a millisecond he let himself think it might be easier with a friend by his side.

The wind simply carried on in its merry way, while Sherlock fell asleep on the deck chair.

Somewhere on an Afghan desert a chilly wind played with sandy blond hair. A new log was added to the fire and two hands tried to rub some more warmth into the freezing fingers. The blond haired man with blue eyes stared into the flames and thought of home while the cold breeze kept him awake and alert.


End file.
